Letters to Beckett
by c0me-on-skinnylove
Summary: Based off of the headcanon that Castle wrote letters to Beckett during the summer after she was shot. The letters aren't going to be in order, but you can probably gauge at what point during the summer each letter was written. This is my first published story. Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marlowe and Co.
1. Coffee

A/N So these letters are based off of the headcanon that I submitted to Jenna and they were only written because I was worn down by Jess. ;)

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Dear Beckett,

I stopped by our usual coffee shop on the way to the precinct this morning.

I found myself ordering your coffee—I wasn't thinking. By the time I realized what I'd done, the two coffees were made and they were staring back at me on the coffee bar. The barista didn't end up charging me for yours (I'm calling it a pity coffee), but I didn't know what to do with it. So I just threw mine away and drank yours—I again, wasn't thinking.

Let's just say, now I remember why I've never ordered your coffee for myself.

Your friend always,

Castle


	2. You're not alone

Dear Kate,

So I've probably thought of every scenario as to why I haven't heard from you, albeit some are a little out there (it's probably best if I keep my insanity to myself). I just can't help but wonder, you know? Anyways, I've been researching the recovery time for gunshot victims, more specifically the stages of recovery, the lasting effects, and I can only hope that you're not trying to do this alone. I know you. I know that you could be surrounded by hundreds of people and never ask for help, and that frustrates the hell out of me.

So I'm just going to say this, and I know I'm running the risk of you retreating further away from me (you can blame it on my piece of mind if you want to), but asking for help doesn't make you any less strong. You might carry the entire weight of the world on your shoulders without even blinking—I admire that, but I'm here to tell you, you don't have to.

I'm still here, Kate. We all are.

-Castle

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Your thoughts are always appreciated.


	3. Dreams

Dear Kate,

I have this dream—nightmare might be a better word, honestly. We're in the cemetery like before, but the grass looks so much greener. You look at me and you're so beautiful. It's one of the worst days of my life, but in that moment, I can see the distant hope in your eyes. And for the first time since before the hanger, in my reverie, it feels like we're going to be alright. Then comes that blinding light—it's so bright, Kate. It blinds me for two seconds too long and I'm so sorry. I reach you, and sometimes it's like before, but sometimes I save you. Those are the best nights, where my cruel subconscious creates new, heroic ways to save you. But then there are the nights, where the beautiful green grass is stained in red, I'm stained in red, you're stained in red, and I can see you're in so much pain, Kate. I feel so helpless, and each time I watch my hands try to stop the stream of red, moving from the tear in your shirt, to your face, and back to that small tear, but they're worthless.

Then I wake up and I think you're gone. It sounds pathetic, but the nights where you die and I wake up, each time it gets easier to convince myself it's just a dream. It's getting easier, even though I have nothing tangible in front of me. I just have to believe it's true, because a world without you in it is a world I never want to witness.

And yes, Kate. Yes. I will always stand with you.

- Rick

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A/N: Your reviews make me smile, thank you.


	4. I miss you

Hey Beckett,

Remember the first year or so when you were so eager to get rid of me? Well, your wish has been granted. It's been a long time coming, but I've finally been kicked out of the precinct. The new captain was appointed about a week ago and she is not a fan of me at all. I'm lucky I lasted this long, honestly. She has this stare... this dismissive stare, and she has perfected it when it comes to me. It kind of reminds me of yours from early on, just way less hot. Maybe it's not so similar to yours after all... it's just that lately, everything reminds me of you.

At this point I can't find it in myself to care. At one point I would've fought a little harder to stay, but what's the point? Alexis is starting school in a little over a month and I should really spend more time with her (she's been hovering, she says she's worried about me, I tell her I'm fine). Not to mention my book is a complete disaster, and I haven't heard from you. What am I supposed to think, Kate? Are you even coming back? Do you even care? I hate what you're doing to your friends. I hate what you're doing to me. I hate that we haven't heard from you, and I hate that you're doing this by yourself. And you know what, Kate? I hate coffee. The taste churns my stomach, and I hate that you've ruined that simple pleasure for me. I hate the precinct, I hate the M&M's getting stale on your desk, I hate that Montgomery is gone, I hate that everything reminds me of you, and I hate that stupid, uncomfortable chair I used to sit in everyday next to your desk.

I just feel so tired, Kate. I know that you are too, and most of all I hate that you have to go through this.

Castle

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A/N: This one gave me a little bit of trouble, but here it is. As always, thank you for reading and your reviews are like hugs.


	5. Nikki and Rook

Rook tries to stand stoically outside of Nikki's hospital room. He's nervous. He keeps running his hands through his hair, clinging to the flowers he bought for her. He catches a brief reflection of himself in one of the hospital door windows. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath in, knowing the bags under his eyes aren't going anywhere, anytime soon.

The last time he saw Nikki, she was being wheeled down the hospital hallway on a gurney—there was so much blood. He couldn't even begin to comprehend how pale she looked. The thought that he'd never see her again, it made him sick to his stomach. He ended up escaping into the hospital stairwell, in attempt to calm himself down. Rook drew comfort from the cool tile of the hospital stairwell wall against his back. He was so dizzy, his body was betraying him. He focused on his breathing; and put his head between his legs. No, she's going to be fine, he thought. She has to be.

Rook waits for his heart rate to calm down slightly, before entering her room. She was moved out of ICU just this morning. God, he doesn't even know if she even wants to see him. She must be so tired. He almost turns around, but he can't help himself. He's drawn to her, his entire being attuned to hers...he's hopeless.

He slowly opens the door, his eyes cast down. God, why is he so nervous? Rook's heart rate begins to skyrocket again. It's just Nikki, he tells himself. Intelligent, gorgeous, stubborn, Nikki. He looks up and instantly makes eye contact with her. She's been watching him. Her hair is braided, and she's wearing a hospital gown. If he looked closely enough, he could almost see the color slowly seeping back into her skin. God, she's beautiful, he thinks. They stand there, watching each other. He can't bring it in himself to move. She's alive, she's breathing, and all of those pleas to the universe not to take her from him were heard. Rook's eyes start to well up with tears, he's so hopeless when it comes to this woman. He quickly tries to blink them away, but then he notices the shine in Nikki's eyes. And the wall between them suddenly shatters. Rook takes the few steps towards her hospital bed, and falls to his knees beside her, buries his face into her neck. He can't help, but breathe her in. Nikki brings her right arm to his shoulder, and runs her hand through his hair, up and down his neck. The action hurts, but she can't help but touch him, comfort him. She thought she was never going to see him again. Rook finally looks up at her-he looks so tired, she thinks. Her thumb wipes under his eyes. She slowly brings her fingers down his cheek, ghosting her thumb over his bottom lip. She gives him a small smile and it reaches her eyes, she can't help it. They've made it.

Rook shifts and touches his forehead to hers, closing his bloodshot eyes again.

"I thought I lost you, Nikki," he whispers, breathing so much more than words, into the once stagnant hospital room air.

She shakes her head, never breaking contact with his skin.

"I'm here Rook, I'm here, and I'm fine. We're going to be okay," her voice is raspy, and Rook can't help the flood of relief from hearing her voice.

Rook kisses her cheek, moves his kisses to the edge of her mouth, under each eye, and then presses his lips lightly to the side of her forehead. He starts to move his lips, mumbling indistinguishable words into her hair.

Nikki lets out a short sob, just as she barely makes out what Rook is saying.

Like a mantra she hears, "thank you, thank you, thank you," his words whispering over her skin. She draws him closer, a promise that she will try everything in her power to never leave him again.

With love, Kate.

RC

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A/N: I threw this one together pretty quickly, so I'm sorry for any grammatical errors I didn't catch (inspiration took hold). As always, thank you for reading and thank you for the lovely reviews.


	6. One week without her

Dear Beckett,

I know you said you would call, but I hear you're recovering at your father's cabin? That's great, really great. I imagine it's nice and peaceful there.

The writer in me pictures a porch overlooking a small lake-you're sitting on a bench swing—you can probably watch the sun rise or set from there. It's hot, but nothing you can't take. You get small bursts of relief from the stray breeze off the lake. It's quiet—might be too quiet sometimes—you can hear your thoughts, but you're surrounded by nature, and it's so different from the overwhelming sounds of the city. It's something that lulls you…the crickets chirping (which drones after a while), maybe a toad croaking by the lake, and distant songs of birds being carried through the patches of trees.

And I just got kicked out of my day dream by the sound of a taxi horn. Nothing's changed too much here (as you can tell). I'm in and out of the precinct, working a case with the boys. I told Ryan I wouldn't tell you this, but I've caught him staring longingly at your chair (I think he might miss you).

The ruggedly handsome faux doctor in me says rest up. Make sure you rotate ice cream flavors, watch the most ridiculous cartoons, and let yourself enjoy the cheesy daytime soaps—doctors orders.

Get well, Kate. You've got this.

-Castle

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


	7. Trouble sleeping

Hey Kate,

So I'm lying in bed again, unable to fall asleep. I've been so physically exhausted lately, and I blame my mind because I can't will it to stop over thinking. My thoughts are rampant, creating these visceral scenarios. Sometimes I can see myself saying, 'the hell with it,' and I come and kick down the door to your father's cabin. Other times, I picture Josh there helping you through this and it makes me indignant, nauseous with envy. But above all, I can clearly see the moment you finally call and tell me that you miss me, and before you can even finish your sentence, I'm already in the car driving to you.

I guess I'm writing this out because I hope this will help calm my mind, free these thoughts, and give me a chance to clear some things up with you.

So let me start off by saying that, Kate, I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I might hate your actions or this inexplicable line we've drawn, but my feelings towards you are so far from hateful.

You see, I know we've drawn this line between us, where we don't talk about what this is, what we feel, and how any conversation that ventures close to this unspoken law are so heavy with context...what I'm trying to say is that this is all so frustrating. I'm past the point of hearing my phone ring and praying that it's you on the other end, I've stopped pitying myself for that day in the hospital where I wore my heart on my sleeve and you pushed me away.

I know that I drove you nuts in the beginning, Kate. I basically wormed my way into your life, and at the time, I enjoyed how much I was getting under your skin. But you know what, Kate? I also saw the day that it all changed. When my presence by your side wasn't an annoyance, that even though you still rolled your eyes at some of my theories, you genuinely listened to them; I saw the day we became partners. I know that my coping mechanism is to make things light, to hide behind my jokes and I know that yours is to run—we are both guilty of our chosen survival instincts, Kate—so I'm not blaming you. But as the days carried on, that line between us became blurry, and I can't count the amount of times where my actions were dictated by this invisible line.

That's what's so different about that day in the cemetery, Kate. It was just you and me, the stained grass, and the line was gone. You were lying there in front of me and that stupid, damn line was a moot point. There's never a right moment. There's never going to be the perfect time. We live our lives day by day waiting for God knows what, Kate…a sign that reads, 'now'? I trusted you to call; I trusted that you would let me in when the time was right. And you know what, Kate? Yes, it's scary to think about, but it's real and I spilled my heart out to you because you were dying right in front of me. I had no choice—I hate that—but the timing doesn't make what I said any less true. And I'm not taking it back, no matter how many times I let myself deny I've ever felt it.

But right now, I'm in this sleepy haze, where my mind is loud, and all I can think about is you.

I love you, Kate. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Castle

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A/N: Sorry for the delay! As always, thank you for reading.


	8. Book launch

A/N: This is a heads up that this chapter contains spoilers for _Heat Rises._ As always, thank you for reading! :))

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Dear Kate,

I shot Rook. I know this is considered a bit of a spoiler and I'm kind of hoping you've read the book already, but it just seemed right, Rook taking a bullet for Nikki. You can analyze it all you want to (everyone else has), but I was at the Old Haunt late one night and I knew it had to happen that way. It's how I would've written it...how I did end up writing it.

It looks like the summer is winding down and I can't say that it flew by like most summers usually do. My book tour kicks off tomorrow; or maybe I should call it my first of a few appearances in New York. I told Paula I didn't want to travel for this book and she surprisingly respected my wishes, but for a small price: I have to do a reading for the appearance tomorrow. Which isn't so bad, and she's even picked out the passage she wants me to read, but it's not the passage I would've chosen. The one I would've selected can be found on the last couple pages of the book, specifically when Nikki sits down by Rook's hospital bed and starts to read to him. That's the passage I would've picked because these characters, as loosely based on us as they are, end up hitting similar roadblocks, but they face each one differently than us.

So I shot Rook, just like you were shot by that damn sniper we can't catch, and one of the reasons that I take pride in Nikki and Rook is because they have always kind of represented our chance (well at least in my mind). But then I had to go and shoot Rook and mess that up because that's how it should have gone that day, Kate. I project my hopes, my feelings onto these characters, and it's only right that I gave Nikki and Rook something to fall back on, some kind of hope too. And that's why I created, 'Castle of Her Endless Longing,' by Victoria St. Claire (aka Jameson Rook, as you know). Rook is part me, and it was only fitting for him to create Lady Kate and the ruggedly handsome man on horseback that offered to ride along with her; it's a new beginning. Because that's how it began for us; how it began for Nikki and Rook, and maybe Lady Kate and the mysterious rider will get a happily ever after. Just maybe this version of us can.

I know it's very meta, and my words were probably hard to follow at times. But, these are my letters and I have yet to send a single one of them to you. Yes, I address them to you because I wish to God that I could send them, but it's too much of me and I don't know where we stand (I never really do). I'm a writer Kate, there's no way I could have survived the summer with all of these thoughts trapped inside my head. And to be put simply by quoting Ernest Hemingway, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed". My words are honest, unedited rantings of my mind. These words came easily for me, and they will-we will-forever be alive on these pages, whether we're present in each other's lives or not. Everything I've shared in these letters are a part of me, are the windows into my very being, and as of right now I can't trust you with anything but my life.

So maybe I'll see you soon; you must be getting strong by now, I knew you could do it. Or maybe I won't see you. I've come to accept so many things over this past summer and you have unknowingly made me a more patient man because of it. And as the book launch starts tomorrow, I will sit on whatever makeshift stage or wobbly chair they put me in, read what I'm told, and the part of me that loves you, Kate, will take a moment to glance up at the crowd. And you know what I'll see? I will see you walk through the door in that gorgeous red dress with those legs that go on for miles, and I will remain rooted to my seat as my eyes finally land on that devious smirk that plays across your face because you know exactly the kind of effect you have on me, and in that moment, not a single part of me denies it.

Castle


	9. And there you were

Dear Beckett,

I hope your week has been going well (as well as it can go, I guess). I went shopping with Mother and Alexis this afternoon; treated them both to lunch. I didn't mind much, but honestly Alexis probably wouldn't have gone without me. I try my best to keep up a facade-I don't want to worry them-but I'm worried about you and I can't help the moments when that leaks through.

The mall was nice, though. You should see these two shop, they're unstoppable (I could barely keep up). I've come to the conclusion that they just love the entire process. You know, window shopping, trying on clothes, asking if this shirt works or if that necklace is too much. I would chime in every once in a while with my two cents. It would make Alexis smile and her smiles are like magic; I always feel my heart become a little lighter...if only for a little while. The both of them kept me distracted today and it was something that we needed; family time...just the three of us. I can say that you weren't constantly on my mind (which is unusual), but let me assure you that you never leave it. You linger, and I'm not in the least bit surprised by that.

So I have to ask you a question and I promise there's a point to my ramblings. Have you ever walked into a room, caught a whiff of something (not entirely sure where the smell came from) and it triggers a memory? Well, that happened to me today. I was following Alexis and Mother through a department store and then all of sudden...you surrounded me. I wasn't even thinking of you, but there you were, forging your way to the front of my mind. I can't even explain it, Kate. One second I could smell you, and only moments later you were gone. I know it sounds a bit odd and it's not like I knew my body had unconsciously memorized every detail of you, but you were there and time stopped. You were there. It felt so real, and I half expected to turn around and physically run into you. Instead, I turned around and yes, you were there (not really there), but I could see you. Your wavy hair falling lazily over your shoulders, eyes smiling, lips pursed, arms crossed over your chest. You weren't wearing heels though, converses instead. You had your skin tight jeans on and a v-neck T-shirt that hugged your frame. You were a sight for sore eyes, Katherine Beckett.

And in that moment you were there with us. You were glowing. Glowing with resilience because you faced a wall, Kate, and by God you made it to the other side (I knew you could). I could see you, and you were free from discomfort, free from grief, free from fatigue. You were standing in front of me, as breathtaking as ever, wasting a Saturday with me-with us- and I could smell you, breathe you in; a brief lapse in my worry. And then I blinked and my cruel mind took you away from me. You vanished.

I'm back at my desk now, currently writing this letter, and I can't really find the words to describe your smell, or why it triggered a visage of you. For once I'm speechless, Kate, but that's a common occurrence with you. Even when you're not here, I take you with me.

So rest up, Kate. Because no matter the insurmountable number of reasons of why I think I shouldn't, I'll be here when you get back. It's a constant, ongoing battle between my head and my heart.

Castle


	10. You came back

Dear Kate,

You came back today. You waited in line at my book signing and when it was your turn, you stepped up to the table. I'm surprised I didn't sense your presence. You were standing right in front of me and I didn't even know it. Nothing clicked, nothing aligned in my mind, not until the seconds after you breathed the words, "You can make it out to Kate," and I looked up to see you standing before me. It wasn't a dream, or a visage that my subconscious created, and I was so taken aback Kate, but so relieved.

So I read this story a few days ago. It was about a U.S. soldier who got separated from his unit in enemy territory. The article talked about how each soldier wore a colored elastic band around their helmet, with their name and blood type on it, and it's purpose is to reflect in the dark (you have to be wearing night vision goggles to see it), so fellow soldiers can find one another at night. The soldier who got separated described how he had never been so scared in his life. He was in enemy territory, by himself, with just the darkness surrounding him. So he searched, searched for the bands that would capture the attention of his vision, it was his only hope (he had no other choice). He thought this was it, the next corner he turns at, he meets his fate. But, instead his sight catches the glowing bands of his fellow unit, he didn't give up hope, even though fear dominated every part of him. Hope lingered in the back of his mind, and he described the moment of seeing those bands as an overwhelming flood of relief. The bands calmed him, gave him back some sense of security because even though it took him hours, he made it.

The point I'm trying to make, Kate, is that I couldn't help but relate to this story (in a completely different sense, of course). This summer was hell. I spent a good portion of it holed up in my study writing alternate scenarios for us, hidden behind the smoke screen that is Nikki and Rook. Did I accidentally type Kate every once in awhile, instead of Nikki? Yes, a countless number of times.

I know I joke, Kate, and I know I can be flippant when topics hit too close to home for me, but you're my weakness. I've had my share of hardships. I've been hurt and I've been betrayed. I've also raised a beautiful child mostly by myself. My past experiences have led me to avoid what has potential to hurt me. Except when it comes to you. From the moment I watched you walk away from me after our first case, I knew I was in trouble. I was fascinated by you..I wanted you, and that need only grew the more time I spent around you. I've watched you, I've learned from you, and I fell for you. You have the power to hurt me...you have hurt me and I knew that it would happen one of these days. But, I couldn't find it in myself to care, then or now. You have this hold over me, and I never really knew what would come of us, but I'm still going to stick around to find out.

This summer was dark, and looking up and finding you in the flesh, standing there, and looking so healthy...God, Kate, I have never felt so much relief. You lit up the darkness that surrounded me this summer and having you back calmed me, eased my constant worry. And I came to the realization that no matter the amount anger that still lingered, hope that I would see you again lingered as well.

So outside the book store, I watched you walk away, and every fiber in me screamed to not let you walk away from me again. I didn't choose to feel this way about you, I didn't choose to have you occupy my every thought this past summer, but you know what I did choose? I chose to follow you this time. I left you alone this summer because that is what you wanted, but today I followed you to the swing sets (and I know a part of you knew I would) and I've never been so happy to sit beside you again.

I could tell you were nervous. You kept looking down, stroking our book (hell, I was nervous too and a bit uneasy). I watched your feet coast along the grass, causing the swing to slightly glide under you, and I watched...waited for you to gather your thoughts. You talked about your wall-we all have them, Kate-and how that wall needs to come down before you can live the life that you want, with the person you want. And then you looked up at me with such determination and in that instant, I just knew we could get through this. I knew that we could chip away at your...our walls together.

The hope that lingered over the summer, was actually revived today, Kate. It's almost like a fresh start. A start, where I believe that we just might be on the same page of sorts (maybe the same chapter). Of course, it doesn't erase that fact that we contain the capacity to hurt each other or that we have the potential to keep throwing off the balance we try to set for ourselves in our daily lives.

And yes, I'm still hurt, Kate. But I'm also in love; and you're trying.

I'll wait because that's all I can do at the moment. And to borrow what I told you a little over a year ago: the heart wants what the heart wants. And I will take a sledge hammer to that wall if you ask me to.

Castle

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A/N: The story about the soldier is loosely based on my real life events and I thought it worked nicely here. Also my second eyes for this chapter couldn't look over it this time for me, so bear with me if you spot something I didn't catch.

As always, thank you for reading. Your thoughts and reviews are always appreciated.


	11. Daydreaming

Dear Beckett,

I'm drinking coffee again, and it only just happened this morning. The aroma surrounded me and I could almost taste the strong bitterness of it on my tongue, even though the coffee grinds were still tucked away in the kitchen cabinet-it still woke me up, though. I guess it was my body's way of telling me to get over it, that I can't live each day angry with you. I shouldn't let the anger I feel towards you, influence my feelings towards everything that reminds me of you-I needed to separate you from everything.

It's that simple. Coffee reminds me of you, and that's something that should make me smile, and not make coffee feel like pure acid hitting my stomach. Life doesn't go according to plan, and I've learned to live with that (I still struggle with it; we're only human). I can exist. I can exist with the anger, with the hurt, and with the feeling that I could've done more. And now the taste of coffee doesn't churn my stomach.

I'm smiling while writing this because I'm trying to figure out when coffee became our thing, but the problem is, is that I can't think of a time when it wasn't. I guess you could call it a ritual of sorts...starting the day off with a Kate Beckett smile, or the less sappy version would be that coffee is a precaution. A contingency plan if you will, to start the day off right. To increase the likelihood of getting through it, without you pulling out your gun and shooting me. The act became ingrained in me: make sure Beckett gets her coffee; it will make her happy. And if an act as simple as being the culprit that aids in your caffeine addiction, puts a smile on your face, I will be there every day-multiple times a day if necessary-even if that's all you will...would let me do at the time (hopefully I can be more, one day).

So I got out of bed and went straight for the coffee beans. I leaned against the counter and waited as the brewed coffee dripped down into the pot. And at the same time I let my mind wander, and surprisingly enough, it didn't go straight to asking the universe why you're leaving me in the dark, but instead I found myself debating over whether you're a morning or night person. On your days off do you brew your own coffee or go pick some up at a coffee shop? This was just the start of my many ponderings.

I then looked out into my family room and I could picture you sitting on my couch in your pajamas, holding a full, still hot mug of coffee. I could see you were concentrating on whatever you were reading in the paper, watched as you knitted your eyebrows, creating small lines on your forehead. My eyes were then drawn to your lips and how you always seem to drag your teeth across your bottom lip, sometimes resting them there.

God, your lips, Kate. I still think about the night we kissed. At first you were hesitant, but then you were so willing under my hands, so open under my mouth. I'll never forget your taste, or the feeling of running my hands across your face and into your hair, or how you sucked on my bottom lip. And that moan...I will spend the rest of my life thinking up new ways to drag out many more moans from you (if/when the time comes, of course). I can sometimes close my eyes and feel your fingers on my skin, the electricity they created...it shot through my entire system, my mind completely focused on your body's response to me, memorizing it...memorizing the feeling. Because at the time I didn't know when such a unforgettable moment in time, would ever happen again.

And then I found myself speculating about the times where we could just enjoy each other's company, where little words are exchanged between us. The only form of communication would be the slight hitch in our breathing as our fingers lightly dance across one another's skin. I can see myself not even caring what we're watching on the TV, I can't imagine that I would be able to focus on anything else, but how my hands ghost over your skin, or how your body might tense when I hit a certain spot in my exploration. And I would be so content doing just that, Kate, tracing patterns on your skin or watching you wake up from a restful night's sleep, enraptured by how awareness slowly seeps back into your eyes.

I sometimes muse on what "sleepy" you is like. Are you a snuggler? Would you we fall asleep in each other's arms? Would you like it if I woke you up with a kiss on your neck, nose buried in your hair? Or even better, would you do the same to me? And I'm fine with these questions, Kate. I don't mind wondering, I don't mind the uncertainty, and I don't mind creating these scenarios in my head (it's what I do best). I like to think it keeps the hope in me flickering because there's no way that what I feel towards you is nothing. This is different, it isn't a phase or something that will fade away with time. Many days or over a year from now, Kate, I need to stay hopeful. I need to believe that whatever your feelings are towards me, hopefully there will come a day where you'll tell me that they amount to what I feel towards you. I'm a man who's hopelessly in love with you, a man who's also frustrated and angry with you, and right now I haven't the faintest idea of what to do about it.

I'm not a foolish man, Kate. I know things don't go according to plan. I know that for some reason I've fallen in love with you and nothing could ever come of it, but I don't have a choice in the matter. I have to learn to live with it...I'm starting to learn to live with it for now.

I know I must have written this before, but you're a part of me, Kate. I carry you with me.

Cheers to many more coffees,

Castle

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A/N: This story might be winding down soon...maybe a chapter or two left. Thank you all for reading and any thoughts are always appreciated. I also apologize for any grammatical errors, my second eyes wasn't able to read over it in time and I wanted to give this to you all today. :)


	12. Dear Castle

Dear Castle,

I've been seeing a therapist. I know, it doesn't sound like me at all, but it's necessary in order to get back to work as soon as possible. And I need to get back to work, Castle. All of this free time is getting to me and the hours just drag on. I can't take the silence anymore; I miss the sounds of the city. I miss you.

My therapist recommended that I write my feelings out in a letter to you, to organize my thoughts because I can't keep track of them anymore. He's right, maybe writing them out will help me make better sense of them, help me figure out the words. Because I'm not good with words-not like you-and I have so much to say to you and I don't know where to start. I don't know how to even begin when I see you tomorrow because I don't deserve your forgiveness and I know I've messed up. I don't deserve you, but I need to see you and that makes me feel so selfish. I'm selfish when it comes to you and I'm so sorry, it's not fair to you.

This summer was hard, Castle. The first few weeks…I've never felt so weak, so helpless. I didn't feel like me, and yes, I know I was recovering from a...recovering, but I didn't recognize myself, you wouldn't have recognized me. It was disgusting and wrong and I didn't want to be in my own skin anymore. Gone was your Detective, gone was your muse and as much as I wished you hadn't listened to me and had come breaking down my front door, a part of me is glad you didn't get to see me this way. I'm smiling because of all the times you could have listened to me, you decided this summer was your time. And that makes you so strong, Castle, stronger than me.

The pain is better now. It used to keep me up at night, though. I could never find a comfortable position (because there wasn't one, honestly). I can't really describe how appreciative I am of my dad. He was my world this summer and we would spend the days together and he made it feel like I wasn't a burden (at least some of the time). At night, when I would finally be by myself, I would let it all out. Release the day, prepare for the next one. So I would let out all of the pain and frustration, how worried my dad always looks, how I can't take a shirt on or off without help, how walking from the bathroom to my bed makes me gasp for breath, how I'm a terrible friend, that look in your eyes when you visited me at the hospital. But you know what calmed me? Thoughts of you. Thoughts of before the cemetery, before the hanger. I would recall how passionate you are when you spout out one of your theories, eyes twinkling, I can see your mind racing. Or how you purposefully stand too close to my side, so close that I can feel the heat coming off of you. I could feel how you support me without question and I can't explain how comforting that is, Castle; how much it means to me.

There's this porch that overlooks the lake at my father's cabin and if I haven't messed up what we have, I'll have to show it to you someday. It's really beautiful how you can watch the sunset from there, watch the day end and let the flood of relief wash over you because you made it through another day. I would take your books out there sometimes and read. Even though you weren't here, you helped me Castle, you have to know that. Your words, I could almost hear you reading to me. I could see myself leaning against your chest, settled into the v of your legs, every syllable vibrating against my back. Having your books here made me feel close to you; you erased the pain, if only for a little while.

You're a good man and I'm sorry that I haven't told you that recently. You're patient, you're an amazing father, a loyal son and a partner that I trust with my life; and that scares me. Castle, what if that bullet hit you instead? I would never have been able to forgive myself. If anything ever happens to you...God, I'm so selfish. I would never want to take you away from your family and to think that I could be the cause of that haunts me at night. In my dreams, it sometimes feels so real, you lying on the cemetery ground, blood covering your black suit, your beautiful life draining from your eyes. I am the cop and that bullet was…will never be meant for you, not if I can help it. So it scares me because I know you, Castle, but here I am writing this letter because I can't stay away from you, and it's time that I face you. I'm scared of what the future holds, I'm scared that I will never be more than who I am now, and that I can never give you what you see in me. I never used to be this dark, this withdrawn. My feelings for you are real, but my defense mechanism tells me to hide them, put a wall up around them, and the result is that I deny them life…and you deserve better than that.

So this is my promise to you, Castle. I will fight for you tomorrow. I will find strength in the hope that I have left that what I've done to us can be fixed, and I will walk up to you tomorrow and I will tell you that I want to be more than who I am, more for you and more importantly be more for myself. You of all people, Castle, have shown me that life can still be fun and that we are not defined by our past, but rather by what we choose to do about it today, tomorrow, or the next. I've missed you every day, Castle and I can only imagine what I've put you through, what I've put my friends through. I'm not looking for forgiveness, but a chance to earn your trust back, a chance to be that for you, what you've always been for me. I know I can do this...I want to do this.

All I ask of you is that you wait for me.

Kate

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A/N: I'm going to mark this as complete for now. I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed. It means so much to me, thank you.

I also want to take a moment and thank Jess, without you these letters would never have happened. You're the best.

There might be an epilogue in the future, hopefully inspiration will kick in again. But for now, your thoughts and reviews are always appreciated.


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